


I'm Sorry I Died On You Darling, But You Do Look Very Sexy With Those Tattoos

by MysticMusic



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Evil Deaton, Good Peter, I didn't try very hard on this, M/M, Mild Humor, Morally Ambiguous Stiles Stilinski, Not Beta Read, Time Travel, i just wanted the idea out of my head so i wrote it and decided fuck it im going to post it, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 03:42:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15699435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysticMusic/pseuds/MysticMusic
Summary: Stiles lives in his own personal hell where his entire pack had died due to a trap a few years prior. When he gets summoned to the past by the very same man that caused it, his lover, and the infamous Alpha Hale, what shall he do?





	I'm Sorry I Died On You Darling, But You Do Look Very Sexy With Those Tattoos

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a small thing I wrote for an idea that I couldn't get out of my head. WARNING: It's not good. I didn't even beta read it. I just had to get the idea down in writing or else it wouldn't go away. I mildly gave up halfway through but pushed onwards because I wanted it to have a happy ending.

Stiles is unhappy. He doesn’t think he’s been happy since his the day his pack got ambushed. It was Deaton’s fault. Stiles had never trusted the man, but he had simply written it off as paranoia. He wishes he had believed in himself more at the time. Maybe if he had pushed a little harder he could have his pack right now. Teasing Scott about his ridiculous obsession with Allison and hiding from Lydia when she was determined to take him shopping for something that wasn’t plaid. Even sending sarcastic remarks back and forth with Peter and annoying Derek. Well, wishing will do nothing to get his pack back. Nothing will. It’s been four years since they died. It had been two years after the nogitsune attack. Stiles was eighteen at the time. His pack was going to a warehouse location full of witches given to them oh so kindly by the great Dr. Deaton.

 

Stiles hadn’t gone. He’d been bed-ridden at the time with a broken leg that had surprisingly actually been from lacrosse. Deaton hadn’t known.

 

They told him to stay behind because they thought they could handle it.

 

They were wrong.

 

It was a trap.

 

Scott. Lydia. Derek. Peter. Erica. Boyd. Isaac. Cora. Allison. Kira. Even Stiles’ dad had gone to call in police backup afterward.

 

All of them.

 

_Dead._

 

All because Deaton hadn’t gotten his way. He wanted to poison the nemeton, but Stiles had protested. Only bad things would come from the nemetons death. Scott listened to his best friend and _died_ for it.

 

Deaton, of course, had realized that Stiles hadn’t died, but thought ‘ _Oh, he’s only human.’_

 

The man’s biggest mistake had been leaving Stiles alive. Stiles was bloodthirsty. He trained his spark until he was one of the most powerful magic users in America.  He even managed to discover that Deaton had a hand in the Hale house fire.

 

The druid hadn’t lived much longer after that. Stiles made the man _pay_ viciously.

 

Stiles looked all over the world for ways to bring his pack back, but there was nothing. All he wanted to do was die sometimes, but something stopped him from doing so. He felt like he would fail his pack if he took the easy way out, so he waited.

 

Now Stiles is twenty-two and still very, very unhappy. He went about his days in an almost sleep-like state, but never actually got any sleep. So when the spark passes out on the cold ground all he can think is, ‘ _Something is very wrong.’_

 

* * *

 

Stiles wakes up on a wooden floor that he definitely hadn’t passed out on. He doesn’t even feel refreshed, so he hadn’t been sleeping for long. He groans as he sits up and opens his eyes. Only two see three living ghosts staring at him curiously. He sucks in a breath and launches himself backward into a wall carefully making sure his defenses are up, but not visible as he eyes the last ghost.

 

He lets out a laugh that doesn’t actually have any humor left in it and rubs his face, “Am I in hell? Did I finally exhaust myself to death? Or maybe I starved. I can’t actually remember the last time I ate _or_ drank for that matter. If this is hell, God seriously fucking hates me to put me through this torture.”

 

The only one out of all them that he doesn’t recognize steps forward. A very beautiful woman with dark brown hair that perfectly matches her eyes. _Talia Hale,_ his mind supplies, but his gaze keeps getting drawn to the man to her right that is obviously Peter. The man eyes him warily as the left-hand should. If it is hell, that’s the real torture. Figments of his imagination meant to torture him for eternity. He misses the real Peter. He’s had his fill of glances at Peter. His eyes dart to the real danger in the room to Talia’s left.

 

Deaton.

 

He feels pure rage.

 

Talia speaks, “You most certainly aren’t in hell little one. I’m-”

 

“Talia.”, he finishes for her. Just to get formalities out of the way, he points at Peter. His voice breaks a little as he says, “Peter.” Of course they notice, but he continues with Talia, “Talia,” and finally, “Deaton.” He keeps his voice calm and controlled as he shows that he knows the man’s name. He wants to know what’s to know what’s going on before he makes his move. He’s played innocence alright so far, but it probably isn’t working. He’s covered in sigils from the neck down, dark squiggles that dance across his skin. They certainly sense him as the predator that he has trained himself to be.

 

They look at him, confused for a moment before he continues, “Where am I and why am I here?” He tries to keep his gaze set on Talia, but his eyes keep darting to Deaton. It’s hard to push the rage down.

 

Deaton goes to speak and Stiles’ anger breaks the surface a bit, “I would like,” he hisses, “to speak to Talia.”

 

He looks slightly startled, but closes his mouth. Stiles turns his gaze to Talia who also looks startled, but speaks, “We summoned you, the next emissary of Beacon Hills, from a later time to fix something. A woman had stopped me on the street and gave me a very good reason to believe that we were in danger and gave me a slip of paper with a spell on it. She had told us it would help and it brought you here.”

 

Amanda. Amanda had done it. He doesn’t know how he knows it was her, but _he just does._ She was a good friend that Stiles had made along the way. She was almost like family. She had told Stiles that she would search for a way to fix his troubles. He hadn’t believed her at the time, but apparently, she found one.

 

Stiles turns to Deaton and laughs humorlessly, gaze cold like the nogitsune, “So Deaton, what was it? Did you think I wouldn’t survive? You and I both know that there can’t be two of the same person in the same time. Why’d you risk doing the spell? Did you think I’d be an idiot? Did you expect little ten year old me would be powerful enough to win the time battle and that I’d burst into flames before I even hit _the ground?_ That’s kind of foolish even for you. _”,_ he’s growling by the end of his rant.

 

Deaton stares on, looking unaffected as usual. The wolves seem concerned, but Peter, who has common sense, starts to look wary of the druid.

 

Stiles is boiling. Oh, he is definitely going to enjoy killing the filthy man a second time around. All it takes is the wave of his hand and Deaton is flying into the wall. Peter and Talia make to move forward, but Stiles quickly stops them in their tracks with a raised hand. His sets his focus on them.

 

“What is the meaning of this?”, Talia demands.

 

“I’ll let you move if you promise to hear me out. Trust me when I say that _Dr. Deaton,”_ he says the name as if it’s the plague, “is the biggest danger to you in this room.”

 

Talia looks outraged and is just as surprised as Stiles when Peter talks first, “All right. We’ll hear you out.”

 

Stiles knows the man is sincere. He had never trusted the druid himself.

 

“God, I missed you,” the words startle Stiles as much as they startle everyone else as he realizes they had come from his own mouth.

 

He kicks himself mentally but retracts the spell that had removed their movement. Peter has a curious glint in his eyes, “Missed?”

 

Stiles pauses as he remembers a very important detail. He looks at them and asks, “What year is it?”

 

“2004,” The response is given to him by Talia who also seems curious at his exchange with her brother.

 

He freezes visibly. It’s the year of the Hale fire, “Month?”

 

“November.”

 

He’s obviously panicking now. He really wants some time to explain before he has to rush god knows how many people out of a burning building, “Day?”

 

His panic is infectious apparently because the response of, “The 5th.” is given instantly.

 

He relaxes and the two wolves mirror the action. The fire isn’t for a week. Deaton is apparently out cold.

 

“You should probably get Derek in here for what I’m about to tell you,” Stiles tells them casually as if his panic had not happened moments before, “He has a major part of all of this and needs to hear it as well.”

 

“Aren’t you worried about how to get home?”, Peter asks to which Talia kicks him. He ignores her, continuing to stare at Stiles, but the man seems to already know the answer to his question.

 

Stiles smiles dryly, “I’d much prefer to fix this than go back _._ There’s nothing left for me there.”

 

That seems to be enough for them as they call Derek in. The teen looks slightly terrified of Stiles as he sees the unconscious Deaton. Stiles smiles at the younger Hale who has no idea who he is. He misses his pack.

 

“Never would have thought I’d miss getting thrown into walls so much,” he murmurs to himself quietly. He shakes off the nostalgia and glances at the three Hales who had obviously heard him.

 

He waves them off and tells them everything. Well, almost everything. They don’t need to know about Peter killing Laura and by extension Derek killing Peter. Stiles understands why he did it and they don’t need that knowledge in their lives.

 

By the time Stiles has finished, Derek looks horrified and guilty. No that needs to stop right now. Stiles rushes forward to the surprise of all three Hales and just when it looks like the adults are about to attack, he pulls Derek into a hug.

 

The younger Hale is stiff and confused as to why this stranger is hugging him, but he gradually relaxes into the hug. Stiles knows he still smells like them after all these years. He still smells like home. He murmurs, “Don’t feel guilty sourwolf. The Derek from my time used to do the same thing. He was all broody and reclusive and pretended everything was fine when it wasn’t. She took advantage of you. You’re a teenager and she used that knowledge to get to your family. No one blames you for being manipulated, Derek. Nothing has happened yet and we’re going to stop it before it does.”, against his better judgment, he presses a finger to the back of Derek’s neck and gives him back his memories. Almost like a wolf’s way of doing it, just without claws. Stiles had taken all of their memories, just in case. Possibly in a moment of insanity. He hadn’t been planning on giving them back. It was just sort of a heat of the moment type of deal.

 

Derek slumps against him from the onslaught of memories until all of them have been returned.

 

Derek pulls back and stares at him with that same broody stare just on his younger body, “Stiles,” his voice cracks. It must’ve worked because Stiles hasn’t actually given them his name yet.

 

He mumbles quietly, “Do you want to keep them, sourwolf? Or do you want a clean slate?”

 

The response is given a lot faster than he actually thought, “I want to keep them.”

 

Stiles is surprised. He hadn’t thought Derek would want his memories. It must’ve shown on his face because Derek elaborates, “Some lessons I’d wished my younger self had known. There are also some good memories in there mixed with the bad,” he stopped before quietly muttering, “I loved them as much as you did Stiles. We were pack.”, It was true. They had all grown closer after their altercations with the nogitsune. Those two years did a lot for pack bonding.

 

“What just happened?” Peter asks, intrigued. Stiles had almost forgotten the two of them were there.

 

“Stiles gave me my memories,” Derek replied as he turned to face the mother that he’d lost and the uncle that was fixed after having long been broken. To her surprise, he pulls Talia in for a hug, “I know I just saw you, but it still feels like I just lived eight years without you.” He pulls back from the still shocked Talia and gives Peter a once over before hugging him as well. Stiles isn’t very surprised by that. He knows Peter was different before the fire and he knows Derek is aware of it as well. Peter had begun to be more like that person again during the two years of bonding. Stiles and the man had gotten together about six months before the trap. Looking at him now hurt more than he was willing to admit.

 

“Can I have my memories?”, Peter asks.

 

“No,” Stiles immediately responds.

 

“Stiles, maybe you should give him the choice afterward like you did to me,” Derek suggests. Well, he didn’t suggest it. He more like told Stiles to do it with a scolding tone.

 

“You of all people can’t possibly be serious,” Stiles says incredulously, waving his hands around, “I wouldn’t wish _those_ memories on him.”

 

Derek winces at the implications, “It’s still his choice.”

 

Stiles sighs. He knows Derek is right. Even though every bone in his body screams not to, he motions Peter forward and sticks his pointer finger to the back of the man’s neck. He slumps forward, but Stiles was ready for it and catches him easily as the memories transfer. Peter groans and Talia looks furious, but Derek holds her back murmuring to her quietly.

 

When the memories finish transferring, Stiles is caught off guard by the kiss that is pressed to his lips, but he quickly melts into it.

 

“I’m sorry I died on you darling, but you do look _very_ sexy with those tattoos,” is murmured against his lips and Stiles can’t help the laugh that escapes him as he’s filled with so much warmth.

 

“As long as you don’t do it again, you’re forgiven,” he pauses, but he has to ask, “Do you want to keep them creeperwolf?”

 

“Of course I do sweetheart. A lot of them are certainly horrific, but some of them are worth the displeasure. I have to admit, I am very pleased that you ended up giving them to me,” he pulls back and smirks the signature Peter Hale smirk that Stiles missed so much. He looks at Derek and drawls, “Thank you, dear nephew. Now I remember all of the ways that Stiles looked when-”

 

That’s enough of that. Stiles slaps a hand over the man’s mouth and blushes slightly. Peter retaliates by biting his hand. Not enough to hurt, but enough for Stiles to remove it.

 

Derek looks like he might be sick, “I regret my input. Take them back.”

 

Peter sends Stiles a pouty face that could make bunnies jealous, “He wouldn’t do that to me.”

 

“Manipulative, scheming wolf,” Stiles says.

 

“You love me for it,” Peter quips.

 

“That I do,” Stiles responds and Peter just gives a shark grin.

 

Then Stiles feels it. The pull in his magic signaling a spell building up near him. He easily whips around and smashes Deaton into the wall.

 

He looks at Peter, “I got to kill him once and I highly enjoyed it. You should do it.”

 

Peter’s face is equivalent to a child’s on Christmas morning as he stalks up to Deaton and slashes the man’s throat without mercy. Perks of being the left-hand Stiles supposes.

 

“Shouldn’t we be heading out to kill some Argents?” Peter asked as he walked back towards the group.

 

“We aren’t killing Chris or Allison,” Stiles scolds.

 

Peter pouts but agrees.

 

They make to head out to where Derek believes the Argent’s are located, but Talia stops them, “Derek really shouldn’t be going with us.”

 

Stiles and Peter laugh while Derek scowls. Peter says, “Don’t worry, Talia. He’s twenty-five mentally. His fighting skills aren’t quite up to par with mine, but they’ll get there someday.”

 

Talia relents, unused to the changed personalities of her family that still smells the same as they did twenty minutes ago. They head out.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t difficult at all to locate and kill the head of the Argent family and his bitch of a daughter. Their eyes widened considerably when they saw Stiles with the Hales. He was their wild card. They hadn’t expected a time traveler to foil their plans. It definitely was a satisfying experience to watch young Derek slit Kate’s throat and Talia rip Gerard apart with her claws. It was a sight to behold.

 

* * *

 

Five years later he gave his friends their memories and asked if they had wanted to keep them. All of them agreed and many of them had chewed him out for not giving him back their memories sooner, but he just explained how he hadn’t wanted to seem like a pedophile. He had given his father his memories immediately after the fight with Kate and Gerard and the man was over the moon to have his son back after the tiny version had died with seemingly no cause a few days prior.

 

Now, Stiles has his happy ending. He isn’t unhappy anymore.

 


End file.
